Coach Fear
by Russell McDowell
Summary: It's been over a dozen years since Coach went to jail for the murder of Outside Dave...now, he's about to be paroled and looking for revenge on Nick Miller!


Nick Miller, knocking over loose piles of change and whatever else had been hastily emptied from his pockets the night before, clumsily reached for the cellphone charging on the nightstand. It was still dark outside, which meant nothing this time of year, but he hoped for the best as he woke the phone. No such luck. 5:54 A.M. There was no use going back to sleep now, he would have to get up in a few minutes anyway. He'd beaten his alarm…again.

Phone still in hand, he grumbled as he turned back into bed, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the light of the screen. He checked his Facebook, then idly scanned a few emails, most of which were from the firm. Since having made full partner a few years ago Nick's day was almost always planned out for him in advance. He had no less than four meetings scheduled for today, not that he was sure what any of them were actually about. The price of success, he supposed.

The clock rolled over to 6:00 A.M. and Nick quickly flicked the alarm away as he let out a long sigh that turned into a full yawn. There was a time when he didn't believe in an A.M. version of six o'clock, now he was all too aware of it. Jess began to stir next to him, buried beneath a mass of blankets. She muttered something, half asleep, and possibly about rabbits.

"You still have a half hour," he whispered, kissing her on the head. "I'm going to take a shower."

Nick wiped away a layer of condensation from the bathroom mirror, leaving only the visage of middle-aged Nick Miller in its wake. He frowned, taking note of how much older frowning made him look, as he leaned into his reflection, still surprised at the man who looked back at him. His fifties snuck up on him as it does to everyone perpetually thinking themselves twenty-five. He ran his fingers through his greying, yet still mostly intact head of hair—a gift from his father, thankfully. Deep lines crisscrossed his forehead, giving him a constant look of confusion, and crow's feet spread from his dark, sunken eyes like a cracked windshield. With a snort, he turned to check his profile, first sticking out his gut to full extension, and then sucking it back in. More of him to love, he thought, as he slapped his stomach—which sent a concerning ripple throughout his torso. This inspection continued for a few more moments before culminating in making faces in the mirror while shaving and concluded with a few bad Cosby impressions to get him ready for the day.

Now dressed, Nick made his way downstairs. A cascade of identically framed photographs followed down the arc of the stairway, most of them taken at birthdays and holidays in this very house. They had moved from L.A. to the country just after their first child, Reginald VelJohnson Miller was born (a name bestowed upon the unfortunate child by Schmidt after Nick lost a bet to him). That was fifteen years and a second son, Robert Winston Miller, ago. Nick paused at the landing, hearing his children awake downstairs in the kitchen. He smiled, and found it odd how soothing their bickering over what television show to watch with breakfast was to him. The pitter-patter of arguing voices, he thought to himself.

Nick feigned shock as he entered the kitchen, "who let you people in my house?" Reginald, ever the teenager, barely responded with a somber, "hey dad," before returning to his breakfast. Robert, all of six years old, leaped from his chair and flung himself against his father's leg. Nick picked him up from under the arms and sniffed him inquisitively like a monster, "I forget the name, yet your scent seems familiar, human child…"

"It's me, Robert, daddy!" They both laughed as Nick set him down. "Of course, how could I forget my darling children!?"

Jess, still in her pajamas, entered through the mudroom built into the rear of the kitchen. She set an empty pail down on the linoleum floor and leaned against the washing machine while she struggled to slip off a pair of rain boots. The years had been much kinder to Jess than they were to Nick. She had managed to retain the trim figure of her youth, even after giving birth to two children. Even without make-up, her face was still mostly smooth and she projected an air of innocence. Only a discreet streak of grey hair gave any cause to suggest her age, and Nick assumed that her leaving it untouched was completely intentional. In short: Nick Miller was a lucky man.

"Mr. Longbottom got out again." Jess pulled her hair up into a ponytail, "I found him in the Parker's field." Mr. Longbottom was a goat, one of several farm animals Jess kept on their property. Along with the house and the great school system—of which Jess had been named Superintendent—her petting zoo was just another perk of the country life she always wanted and something Nick was truly proud to be able to provide for her. She washed her hands in the sink, and then kissed Reginald on the head-which he ignored-dutifully eating his cereal while watching the small television on the kitchen counter. She then made her way to Robert, stopping herself short of kissing him and settling for a fist bump because he had decide recently that a kiss from a girl was "gross." Nick raised his own fist, waiting for his bump. Instead she folded herself into him, kissing him passionately on the lips. He returned the kiss, wrapping her up in his arms.

"Hey dad, you're on TV." Reginald turned up the volume of the television.

Sure enough, he was right. The news was replaying footage of Nick defending he and Coach at the trial for the murder of Outside Dave. At the time, the trial made national news and was deemed trial of the century by several major news outlets. Nick Miller watched in shock as the events played out once again on screen. He had expertly defended himself—having never previously seen a case through court before—yet also managed to ensure the conviction of Coach.

"Our top story today, convicted killer known only as "Coach" is moments away from being released on parole, even amid heavy protests. Coach, seen here on trial with fellow defendant turned lawyer turned eventual prosecutor, Nick Miller, was found guilty in 2014 for the murder of David Costello, a decorated Navy Seal who'd fallen on hard times after a bout of mental illness. We go now live to Eric Nguyen who is among the crowds gathered outside of the penitentiary. Eric?"

Jessica, her face gone white, turned from the television which now was showing footage of Nick in a courtroom, topless, pointing to a pie chart labeled Strangulationisim. "Nick, how did this happen? You went to his parole hearing last month!"

Nick nodded in agreement, and then remembered how he may not have actually remembered to go the courthouse that day. Instead, he was pretty sure he'd fallen asleep in the park.


End file.
